Pinkney spent more than a decade composing the narrative of this moving memoir, which largely recounts his childhood in an all-Black neighborhood in Philadelphia in the 1950s. Jerry (his name really is “just Jerry,” not Gerald) had five siblings, a carpenter father, and a close relationship with his mother, who truly appreciated his gentle, sensitive spirit. If he wasn’t drawing, Jerry was thinking about it; everything around him was a potential sketch. He had a thriving imagination and an unquenchable thirst to create, and people took notice. Although he struggled to read due to dyslexia, one of his teachers honored him with the title of “class artist” and integrated art assignments into his schoolwork for extra credit. Jerry sold papers at a newsstand, where his boss allowed him to sketch during slow times. It was here that Jerry began sketching passersby, selling his drawings for a nickel each. As luck would have it, one of his customers was comic strip artist John Liney, who invited Jerry to his studio to observe his creative process. The experience planted a seed in Jerry’s mind: Perhaps one day he, too, could make a career out of art. Indeed, the epilogue expounds upon his great success as a beloved and prolific children’s book illustrator. Although the memoir’s copious illustrations are only rough sketches—Jerry died before completing them—they provide a clear view of the memoir’s setting and subjects. (Ages 8-12)